It is not the man who has too little, but the man who craves more, that is poor.
Stoic philosophers drip their wisdom throughout the canals of history. Could you even imagine uttering this pretentious of a phrase to your closest friend without getting a glass of water thrown into your face? Or how about -
He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.
Seneca, a Roman philosopher and statesmen dedicated his time to studying the achievement of a virtuous and fulfilling life through self discipline and avoiding the dangers of wealth and luxury. The latter quote belongs to Epictetus, an influential Greek Stoic philosopher focused on teaching his students to master the self, and practice detachment to material matters and environmental influences out of their control. Both wise men. Both strong believers that happiness cannot be found in things.
However, both Seneca and Epictetus never encountered a Black Friday deal where they could save $700 on a 77” OLED TV did they?
Maybe if they knew they could watch beads of sweat drop off of colosseum athletes in razor-sharp 8k resolution, each cut of dark blood flying through the air with pixel-perfect blacks and a billion hues of color, combined with a 120Hz refresh rate that would make every swing of the sword fluid and lifelike, surrounded by Sonos’ latest Dolby wifi speaker system — these philosophers would have been consuming some of that glorious gladiator content instead of wise cracking thoughts on the shortcomings of the material world.
Today, at this very moment, we have access to more things at our fingertips than any human throughout existence. Seneca couldn’t even begin to imagine the sheer volume of objects I can conjure on a complete whim. As effortless as generating a thought, we can summon an immeasurable amount of stuff to our feet. A supply chain hardly seeming possible in sci-fi novels mere decades ago now enables the unrealistic speedy delivery of deodorant, plants, drugs, booze, warm food and furniture into our prying hands.
In writing this letter, I had to confront a piece of myself that is much easier to hide away in the private recesses of personal online order history. I had to confess to myself that I am a consumerist. A Luxurivore (devourer of luxury). A Goodsmaniac (maniacal about materials goods). A possesphile (you get the idea). To illustrate this point, let me tell you a very real, very shocking story about how conditioned I’ve become to buy, Buy, BUY and buy some more.
An out-of-body consumer experience
A few weeks ago, I woke up, rolled to my side and grabbed my phone to silence my alarm. In an awakening brain fog, I mindlessly navigate to the Instagram app. I almost never do this, but that morning I was particularly weak-willed and chose to start my day with doom scrolling while my brain woke up. Three swipes in and an ad from Fanatics (the company with a monopoly over all sports appraisal) appeared on my timeline. It was for an off-white Michigan State ball cap, retro styled with a broad-chinned Sparty embroidered snuggly in the center.
On auto-pilot, literally seconds after arising from unconsciousness, I clicked on the ad, added the hat to my cart, auto-filled all my billing and shipping information, and purchased the $30 hat.
About ten minutes later, after I had brushed my teeth, my actions from earlier started to sink in.
Why the hell did I buy that hat?
Did I need another baseball cap? No, I already own 23 pairs. I certainly wear ball caps a lot, and I like the MSU Spartans, but there was absolutely no need behind that purchase. What’s worse, is that there wasn’t even a want behind that purchase prior to jumping on Instagram that morning.
A hat was not on my Christmas list. I was not keeping an eye out for MSU swag this football season. The desire was generated in a matter of seconds, and the purchase was made in a matter of minutes. I was truly baffled with myself throughout the rest of the day, and could not nail down what my thought process had been. Today, I know that there was no thought process at all, just a conditioned reaction to a trained stimulant.
We’ve grown so accustomed to being shown what we think we want, and getting that item or software or service instantaneously, that we’ve effectively removed any hesitation from our purchasing process. This was the day I had to face a hard truth, scroll through my budget, and realize that I frankly had a lot of work to do to tone down my materialistic habits.
Now, to be frank, I am not a grotesque consumer, sleeping on my piles and piles of clothes like some horror story from the TLC show Hoarders. My consumerism, like I’m sure many of ours, is a much more gentle, downward sloping path (I’m deliberately avoiding the word spiral here). A subtle online purchase or two here, a brewery t-shirt there, a golf club in the early summer season and new water resistant shoes perfect for this fall weather.
I actually nicely slide into the average amongst my peers and certainly my fellow countrymen. What’s terrifying is the normality around my level of materialism. What I purchase in a year would have been chastised as a boundless greed by the holier-than-thou Stoics. But today, it is simply the norm to buy an incredible amount of stuff.
T-shirts, shoes, kitchen gadgets, electronics, hiking gear, exercise equipment, and of course new t-shirts, new shoes, new kitchen gadgets, new electronics, new hiking gear, and new exercise equipment to replace the old. And so on and so forth.
This cycle results in the average American generating approximately 1,800 pounds of municipal solid waste annually, equating to about 4.9 pounds per person per day. 4.9 pounds of packaging, food scraps, paper products, clothing, rubber, and plastics. We can’t forget the plastics.
We’ve generated so much waste that there is an incomprehensibly large floating continent of trash in the Pacific Ocean that is 617,000 square miles. That’s roughly two Texas’s worth of trash sitting between California and Hawaii.
Maybe the next time I am eyeing a pair of new flip flops on Temu, I’ll think about the 1.8 billion pieces of plastic suffocating marine life off the coast of paradise and donate that $3.75 to the ocean cleanup project while sliding into one of my three existing pairs.
I won’t pretend to be a modern day Seneca, preaching that the only path to true happiness is through overcoming your attachment to the material things of the world. Materialism is simple formula, and the brain chemistry behind making an online purchase and receiving a package in the mail does equal happiness - even if it’s short term.
I remain the worst of offenders, a writer calling to action, yet living in a state of hypocrisy. I’ll admit that there are clothes on my Christmas wish list that are “repetitive” of what currently sits in my closet. There are items that I do not need to upgrade, but that I deeply want the latest and greatest version of under my tree.
I am dedicated to running life experiments for these letters, but I also recognize my limitations in committing to a challenge that would only result in failure. The idea of enforcing a “shopless” holiday season would require an amount of sheer willpower that I simply do not posses. I know a Black Friday deal for a pair of $120 athleisure pants on sale for $40 would instantly break me. I must take small steps first on this uphill journey.
At a minimum, I hope we can take a moment this shopping season to step off the hamster wheel of consumption and look at the massive accumulation of stuff that has stacked itself neatly behind us. Perhaps we can ask for the gift of an experience, rather than the dress we would wear to the experience.
I’ve been thinking a lot on this subject, and just recently heard that Netflix is releasing a documentary called Buy Now! The Shopping Conspiracy, which features interviews with commerce insiders who reveal the secret tactics of major brands to get people to buy things. I’m curious to discover if there is any shared blame in the cultivation of my habitual buying practices. I will be watching this on it’s November 20th release, after which my rant on the pleasures and evils of consumerism will continue in Part 2.
The Bel
Everyone I talk to about your newsletters really like them and are very impressed with your topics, observations, and insights. And I am one of them. You are clearly making people think about issues that they weren't before reading your newsletter. See Lynsii's comment below. This is an amazing gift that you have decided to share. Some are funny and lighthearted while others are thought provoking.
I have also been sucked into the materialism that you've brought to our attention. I'd like to say I've gotten better, but my Lego inventory says otherwise. Of course, those are more of an investment (at least that's what I tell myself).
As we get older, you really begin to see that stuff is just stuff and that purging your life of stuff feels good. It's like a weight being lifted off your shoulders. It is hard to do...there is nothing wrong with these shoes/pants/shirts, etc...that I haven't worn in 5 years (as evidenced by the dust on them). It's hard to let go. But I also realize the more stuff I have when I die, the more of a pain in the ass it will be for you & Mitchell to deal with. I look around at my parent's house and dread the day when we'll have to deal with all of their stuff.
So now this newsletter has me thinking about purging more. It's time to take a hard look at the stuff I have and the stuff I want and start trying to follow those old wise philosophers.
And finally, instead of buying more stuff, donating to the Ocean Cleanup project would be a good use of money. Save the planet for future generations...way more gratifying than more stuff.
This is something that I think about often. I had my buying under control for a short while, then I had a child and wow....I just told your dad that in one day I received 17 packages from Amazon. The middle of the night buying when you have a newborn is intense. Anything to make my life easier.
This article inspired me to take a couple things off of my wish list. I asked myself...do I really need these? I also appreciate the suggestion of the Ocean Cleanup Project. I had some extra funds in my charity budget this month and you helped direct them!